


Silent Like Thunder

by Deviation



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 14:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9756692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deviation/pseuds/Deviation
Summary: In another lifetime, Jesse McCree lived at the base of a mountain. The other side used to get pelted with storm after storm until, one day, a mudslide occurred, burying the town on the other side of the mountain.The first time Jesse saw Hanzo Shimada's dragons, two things went through his mind.First: That Hanzo is like that storm- untamable, unstopable, a force of nature to be reckoned with and far more powerful than any of them had been led to believe.Second: that Hanzo Shimada is a monster.





	

A year or so into the Overwatch recall a ghost appears. 

 

Or, at least, that’s how Jesse McCree thinks of it. 

 

One day, Hanzo Shimada isn’t there- barely a blip on the radar. Genji had been the first after Lena to join the recall, but he’d taken off soon after- citing the desire to recruit his brother into the team. Winston and Lena had expressed a little bafflement but let him to it. It’s lucky Jesse wasn’t there at the time, he muses, he would have kicked a right fuss. Probably why he joined up so quickly. Genji had returned, brushing off Jesse’s prickly concern and dodging questions about how it went. Jesse won’t lie if asked- the lack of Hanzo Shimada was better in his eyes then the presence of him. A year later though and, sure enough, there he is. 

 

He glides into the breakfast hall and steals his seat.  _ His seat. _ The one by the wall with the full view of the room and the two entrances. Genji trails after him, amusement in the easy line of his shoulders. 

 

“My brother, Hanzo. Please excuse his poor manners I don’t believe he’s shared more than ten words with a person since the day he was born.” 

 

Hanzo scowls and Jesse observes from his displaced place by the counter. His hair is shaved at the bottom but is pulled up at top. He has piercings along his ears and one across the bridge of his nose. His face is wane in the way of someone who knows what it feels like to go a day or three without meals. That’s when the thought comes to mind. Despite the teasing of his brother, Hanzo turns to the others and bows his head, saying firmly, “It is a pleasure to meet all of you.”

 

From the corner of his eye Jesse sees Genji hold up nine fingers, counting Hanzo’s words. Hanzo scowls back and seems to struggle internally for a moment before turning his attention away, huffing a breath. Jesse is wary, at first. But well. He’s grown past the righteous anger he felt on Genji’s behalf ten years ago. He’s willing to give Hanzo a chance, even if he does it with one eye open. 

 

From there, Hanzo seems to simply...appear places. Never lingering for long, always along the edges. Like a ghost. Except one that sometimes eats food or shoots a bow in the practice range. Part of Jesse must have grown complacent in the years out of Blackwatch because he fails to see the danger. Sees only the quiet man with hunched up shoulders and observant eyes after a while. Handsome for sure, probably beat his flesh arm in an arm wrestling contest. But harmless. Though perhaps harmless isn’t quite right. More like. Someone that was a non threat because Jesse was sure in all ways that if Hanzo proved dangerous, he could take him down. 

 

It isn’t until months later and several missions in that his preconceptions are blown out of the water. 

 

They’re overrun. Angela is down, the terrorists either being quick to figure she was their support or had inside information of what to expect. Genji and Lena are dealing with a second group further out and Rein’s shield is seconds away from falling under the onslaught of heavy fire. Jesse is taking pot shots with his off hand- the other holding pressure to Angela’s wound and Hanzo had been overrun from his perch above, losing height advantage and is shooting as quick as he could from behind Rein’s shield. 

 

A deadeye would buy the rest of them time to regroup- escape, and save Angela. 

 

“Reinhardt, Hanzo- soon as the shield fails take Mercy n’ go!” He calls out, leader of this FUBAR mission.

 

“That is foolish- you will be overrun!” Hanzo calls, shooting a scatter arrow and piercing two throats and one thigh. Not enough. 

 

“That’s an order!” 

 

In retrospect, he should have ordered them to go that instant- not when Rein’s shield failed. Because those precious few seconds are enough for what happens next. 

 

It take only seconds though it feels longer. First it’s the air. The smell of ozone fills the air and it’s thick like fog. Temperature goes next- in the half-second it takes for him to inhale the hot and dry air he then exhales in a puff of steam and his teeth chatter.

 

“Barrier is giving out!” Reinhardt calls.

 

Hanzo is drawing his bow- not getting ready to retreat. Jesse would yell if it were any other situation, but it’s not. His instincts are screaming at him, begging him to run. That this isn’t a fight he can win. This is bigger than him and meaner with a hundred hungry mouths and a thousand gnashing teeth. Jesse looks around wildly, trying to find the source of the danger, ready to call out a warning but it dies in his throat when his eyes meet Hanzo’s back. Straight and tall, taller than he’s ever seen, his hair ribbon blowing in the breeze and the sleeve of his coat of his left arm appears to have begun to disintegrate and unravel at the same time. Starting from the wrist and working its way up, blue begins to peel itself off his arm taking the fabric with it. It, no they, there’s two separate forms, they are circle around and down Hanzo’s wrist and shoulder, folding themselves into an impossibly bright blue light at the tips of Hanzo’s arrow. 

 

“Ryuu ga-”

 

Sound is the last to go.

 

“Waga teki wo-”

 

Jesse thinks this is for a reason.

 

“Kurau!”

 

There’s not much in it for a monster when you don’t know they’re coming, after all.

 

Hanzo releases the arrow, the monsters, into the crowd before them. Jesse can’t see their faces. He can only see the silhouette of hanzo against twisting, writhing, unnatural blue. There’s no sound but Jesse can feel it thrumming in his chest, his bones. A deep vibration, a controlled rumbled. The monsters- they’re thunder given form and Hanzo is the storm. Jesse grew up at the base of a mountain. He remembers watching the tall peaks hold the storms backs- watching the other side of the mountain be hit with rampage after rampage. Even from far away it was impossible to miss the lightning struck the land on the other side of the mountain. He remembers in that moment  how there was a town on the other side of the mountain - how a storm blew in, harsher than one ever seen before. He remembers how it tore the mountain down- causing a mudslide and burying the people beneath. Even mountains fall beneath it. 

 

And then the monsters are gone and time moves forward again. The ozone dissipates, the air warms, and sound returns as though it’d never left to begin with. Jesse gasps a breath and then another. His heart is pounding. 

 

Hanzo is on the other side of Angela, digging into his pack and he pulls out a half used roll of gauze. Jesse had stopped applying pressure at some point, shock overruling him, but he quickly snaps out of it, helping Hanzo wrap the wound as tightly as possible. They can’t stay here- however dangerous it might be to move Angela it’d be more dangerous to stay. The time bought by whatever Hanzo did would only be enough if they acted now. Reinhardt stands guard while they work and when they finish he scoops Angela up into his arms. 

 

“I will take to the rooftops and scout us a clear path,” Hanzo offers and Jesse, still finding his voice, nods. Hanzo scales the wall uses cracks and crevices that Jesse hadn’t even noticed were there much less believed where possible to use as a foot or hand hold. Jesse takes the opportunity to reload Peacekeeper while they wait for direction from Hanzo. He glances up at Reinhardt who is gazing in the direction their enemies were mere minutes ago. Jesse doesn’t want to look but he does. 

 

There’s no blood or gore. Jesse thinks it might be better if there was. They’re just lying there, still, having dropped moments after the monsters pass through them. Some tried to run, others froze in place. Hanzo calls through the com, giving the all clear, and they begin to head in the direction of the crowd. Through a veritable field of the dead. Jesse and Reinhardt are both better trained than to let the dead distract them from the fact that there are living folk who still want them dead, so they don’t hesitate when stepping over or around the bodies. Jesse does look down, once and stares straight into the brown eyes of someone who died in fear and pain. A glance around shows much of the same: eyes wide open, staring into a hundred hungry mouths and a thousand gnashing teeth and knowing there was no escape. 

 

Hanzo’s voice rings over the com, directing them down an alley. Watchful. Safe. 

 

“Looks like rain!” Reinhardt muses briefly, breaking the silence, glancing up at the heavy clouds above. 

 

“Yeah, I reckon.” 

 

Later, with Angela safely in the medical wing of base, Jesse finds Genji. He is with the monk, Zenyatta, chatting quietly, but he looks up when Jesse enters. Genji offers a short bow to Zenyatta and walks past him to Jesse, fingers brushing along the omnic’s shoulder. 

 

“Can I help you, Jesse?” 

 

“Yeah, if anyone could here it’d be you. ‘S about your brother.” 

 

Genji tilts his head to the side. Jesse, not for the first time, wonders if he’s always done that or if it’s a learned habit, similar to omnics mimicking more obvious body language to put non-omnics at ease. 

 

“Of course, lets walk.”

 

They walk. Jesse is uncharacteristically quiet, unsure of how to ask if Hanzo is man or beast to the brother he murdered eleven years prior. Luckily, Genji seems to know what this is about and broaches the topic first.

 

“You saw my brother’s dragons,” It’s not a question, but Jesse nods anyway, “The dragons have been a part of the Shimada clan for thousands of years. They are spirits with whom the Shimada are allies with- a partnership. Power given under certain conditions, depending on the nature of the spirit that chose to bond.” 

 

Jesse’s head is swirling. It’s literally magic. He lived life too close to the edge to not believe in spirits, but he down right never claimed to have bonded with one. 

 

“Do you have one?” Jesse asks before he can catch the thought. 

 

But Genji only nods, “Not every Shimada wishes to bond with a spirit, and not every Shimada will be accepted by them even should they wish it. Mine is a spirit of love and can only be called in the name of such,” he chuckles, “Needless to say the Elders looked down on me for my choice.” 

 

“Why haven’t you used it before? Or them rather?” Jesse asks.

 

“Just one,”  Genji replies, “My brother is unique in having two. Ai would not answer me for a long time- there was too much hatred in me to allow her to come to me. It was not until Zenyatta…” He trails off, turning his head forward. Their walk along the outside of base has brought them to the cliff side. The ocean crashes against the rocks below. Genji kneels down, brushing his hand over the small pebbles and stones beneath them, searching for something before standing again, rolling a small flat stone in his metal palm. 

 

Pressure still exists, Genji had told him once, but his nerve endings are mostly gone. There is no pain no, but there is no pleasure either. He can’t feel the stone in his hand as anything other than pressure, if it’s even heavy enough to register. But Genji does not grip it too hard, does not crush it between his fingertips to dust. Love, Jesse thinks, makes sense for it to have chosen Genji. Genji pulls back his arm and sort of, well, flails forward, tossing the stone. It plops into the water and sinks. 

 

Genji's huffs a laugh, “Brother was always better at skipping stones then me.”    
  
Jesse is confused, “Don’t you use those throwing stars? Shouldn’t it be the same?” 

 

“It is  _ not _ the same!” 

 

“I think you’re overthinking it.” 

 

“That would be the first time I’ve been accused of that.” 

 

They share a laugh, falling into comfortable silence. Soon, though, a question nags at Jesse’s mind and he can’t help but ask, “If yours is love, what’er Hanzo’s spirits?” 

 

There’s a long moment of hesitation and then, “Fear and Duty,” another chuckle, this one full of grief, “The family was much happier with them, then with Ai. Where Ai refused to be wielded against her kin…” He trails off

 

They stay together in silence after that and the image of those brown eyes, wide open and terrified in death, lingers on. 

 

Jesse becomes more wary of Hanzo from then on- of a man chosen by spirits of Fear and Duty. But he simply cannot leave such a dangerous man alone on base, with his comrades, and, inevitably, they begin spending more time together.

  
First, it is at meals, Hanzo has overtaken the seat overlooking the two exits, but Jesse sits next to him now, wound tight and ready to tackle him at a moment’s notice. Then it’s the practice range, when he sees Hanzo showing Lucio tips to deal with his weapons slow fire rate while Hana offers contrary advice at every turn.

 

“You will want to keep your elbows loose to prepare for knockback but-”   
  
“Knockback? This isn’t the 30s-”

 

“Predict where they’re going to be-” 

 

“Just shoot all over the place, like in a circle, make it so they can’t move without getting hit-”

 

“If you are spotted attempt to lure them to an edge so that you can knock them off with your secondary fire-”   
  
“No way just knock em back and run! What if he get surrounded while looking for an edge?”

 

Needless to say, Jesse saves the kid (though at twenty-seven he’d definitely be miffed to be called such but damn if he isn’t a hell of a lot more bright eyed then he was at that age) and offers a mixture of advice the other two had given. They both nod alongside him as though obviously this is what they’d been lecturing the entire time. After that it just becomes habit to practice with Hanzo, at first doing it solely to gauge the skills of the other- calculate ways to take him down if need be. 

 

But well, it’s hard being wary of a man who turns his nose up at peas, teaches the less weapon savy members of their little crew how to better handle their weapons and how to get away, who watches door ways so diligently that Jesse feels safe not keeping watch himself. Who goes on missions and, from his perch above the chaos, makes calls that save lives.

 

Gabriel could have done it. 

 

The thought drives him to drink one night, sitting on the rooftop and staring at the stars. They’re different here than back home. He thinks he should be used to that by now but he’s not. An hour of silence passes before the quiet  _ tap tap _ of Hanzo’s feet against tile, distinct in their silently metallic sound, alerts him of another presence. He stands next to Jesse for a moment, hesitating, before folding his legs and sitting cross legged next to Jesse. Jesse spares him a glance before returning to the stars. 

 

He hears the sound of Hanzo unscrewing his sake gourd, taking a long sip. Jesse lifts his own bottle of whiskey and raises it to him slightly, before taking his own sip. 

 

“Genji told me your spirit friends are Fear and Duty,” Jesse says, “Makes a man nervous-thinkin’ of the things men have done in the name of those things.”

 

Hanzo seems to pause, thinking, “Similarly, perhaps, to the fear of what men have done in the name of love.” 

 

Jesse blinks and turns his head, taking in Hanzo’s face, who’s gazing back at him, intently. 

 

“I summon my dragons with Fear and Duty, yes. It is the fear for my life, for my comrades lives, that allows me to draw my arrow and it is duty to the debts I owe which allow me to release it. I understand your concern: you are a protector by nature. I am no hero- but I am not a threat.” 

 

“And Genji?” Jesse asks, striking where he sees the flaw in the argument, a snake in the sand. 

 

Hanzo looks away and there is a long moment of pause. Jesse thinks he’s won there and takes another swig, liquor sloshing at the bottom. He’ll need to get another bottle after tonight. 

 

“It was fear for my clan, my family, that drew the arrow. And duty to my clan that released it. But it was fear of causing my brother pain, of ending his life, that cursed him to this existence. My duty as an older brother which did not allow him to-” Hanzo’s voice breaks at the last moment and Jesse turns back to him, stunned but Hanzo is not looking at him, instead, gazing down at the tile, hands clenched in the fabric by his knees. 

 

Jesse can see it now, easily. Waring fears, waring duties. Waking up one day and hating yourself for ten years believing that one side was stronger than the other- being haunted by the fact that his one fear was realized by the other. What Hanzo had done was horrible-but he was only a man, and the choice to kill his own brother did not come to him in a void. Genji had told him as much himself- how the clan purposefully divided and estranged Genji for years before his death. He thinks of a young kid in the Deadlock Gang- believing everything he was doing was right and just even if no one else could see it because that’s what all the people he looked up to said. 

 

Not blameless, but not the only one to blame. 

 

Fear, duty, love- they bring out the best and worst in people. Jesse’s lived long enough that he should have known better. Hanzo straightens then and shifts so his body is angled towards Jesse’s. His eyes are hard and in the moonlight appear almost black. His face has filled out some the past few months with three square meals a day. He looks like a man who has accepted his sins. A man searching for atonement. 

 

He awaits, Jesse realizes, for judgement. 

 

Well it ain’t gonna dispense itself. 

 

“It’s a toss up,” Jesse begins slowly, “of what’s motivated me to kill more people in my time, fear or love. Combination of both in some instances. But every time i was also motivated by the need to protect. Think you can do that?” 

 

“Yes,” stern, and without hesitation, a nod to emphasize the words. 

 

“Good then, we don’t gotta problem.”

 

Jesse turns back to the stars and sets the bottle aside, setting his hands slightly behind himself and to the side so that he can lean back just slightly. Hanzo makes moves to leave but Jesse makes a grumble in the back of his throat and Hanzo settles back down. He’s stiff for a few minutes but then his shoulders droop and he mimics Jesse’s pose, looking up at the stars. The moon is nearly full, hanging low and fat in the sky. 

 

Jesse glances at Hanzo form the corner of his eye- the moonlight frames his face handsomely. Hanzo catches him looking and Jesse gives a roguish wink to which Hanzo chuckles. 

 

Their fingers do not brush but they are close, comfortable, and with a little effort from them both they could close the gap between them.

 

Things shift after that. Jesse’s instincts no longer scream at him about monsters when he looks to Hanzo and Hanzo seems more at ease around the lot of them- as though the knowledge that there was someone who  _ would _ take him out should he become a threat is comforting to him. Jesse thinks that’s probably the case. More people flock to Overwatch- new recruits, old recruits slowly coming out of hiding. The old ones are all wary of Hanzo at first but seeing the easy way Jesse treats him, Jesse who once shot a man in the leg (allegedly) for beating his wife who was a friend of Jesse’s in Blackwatch days, settle in after a few days. 

 

The time they spent together before that was filled with tense silences is filled with now with soothing ones or instead with conversations and warm laughter. The distance between them closes over time until it becomes second nature for Jesse to lean on Hanzo’s shoulder and point something out to him or whisper sly gossip and jokes in his ear. Hanzo for his part doesn’t respond often but the occasional snort and, even more rarely, a bark of laughter, makes something warm curl up deep inside him. Hanzo doesn’t touch without purpose often and that alone is enough to make Jesse burn with fury some days. When he does though it’s usually done to direct Jesse somewhere. A tap to the shoulder to move him aside, a kick under the table when he says something that particularly annoys him and once, notably. A bump of the hips for no reason other than to goad Jesse into a friendly chase. 

 

Missions come and go, less often with Hanzo now that they have more people but they’re still paired together frequently- having only begun to work together even better now that they get along. Jesse doesn’t see Hanzo’s Dragons on the next several missions. But by the way one of the teams come back, shaken and side-eyeing Hanzo for a few days, Jesse figures he does use them. Genji’s dragon shows its face before Hanzo’s do in the midst of escorting a prominent politician on pro Omnic rights in london. 

 

They’re overrun- they’re guarding Mishka, the politician, when a terrorist group strikes wanting to cause more mayhem with as much death as possible. Zenyatta is with Mishka, treating a wound to the shoulder. Genji and Jesse making quick steady work of terrorists while Reinhardt and Mei use their shield and ice wall to cover the retreating civilians from fire. Lucio speeding along the walls, pumping soothing music to keep the civilians as calm as possible given the circumstance. 

 

Jesse knows it coming by the way time slows down. They’d been trying to knock them out- take at least a couple alive to interrogate and find out who’s leading them. But one of them wises up to the fact that one of their group is an Omnic and aims past them, at Zenyatta. Firing and forcing Zenyatta to use his body as a shield between the rain of bullets and Mishka. Jesse knows two things simultaneously. 

 

One, he needed to get out of the way. Now. 

 

Two, no one that was still standing would be alive in a few seconds. 

 

Jesse combat rolls the fuck outta there, sliding in next to Zenyatta and Mishka. 

 

First it’s the air. Ozone and thickness. Like breathing in lightning. Temperature is next except instead of cold, it’s hot and stifling.

 

From where he is kneeled in the ground, eyes intent on Genji’s back, he sees the form of the dragon coming into being like flames crawling up Genji’s back, clawing its way up as Genji reaches for the sword strapped to his back. 

 

“ Ryūjin no ken wo kūrae!” 

 

The last to go is sound.

 

Genji pulls the sword out- the flames engulf the blade of the sword and between one breath and the next, Genji dashes forward slicing through a woman in a way that shouldn’t be possible. The neck of a man is sliced clean through, arterial spray coating the floor and a strange gurgle escaping before he drops to his knees, dead. He dashes forward, slicing through an arm and chopping it off and then striking behind him severing their spine. The unnatural speed of it, pure violence, It lasts maybe five or six seconds. Barely any time at all and entirely too much all at once. 

 

The flames have faded from the weapon and the sword is coated with blood. Jesse half expects him to give the sword a quick flick to get the blood off, like in old timey shows and anime. Instead, he gives a quick look around picks a dead body, wiping one side of the blade on the dead man’s shirt and then the other. That’s worse somehow, for a body to be reduced to a cleaning rag. He sheaths the sword and turns. 

 

Genji rushes to Zenyatta’s side, hands roaming over him and searching for damage. The smell of ozone has dissipated, and the temperature has returned to normal. Sound fills the air as though it’d never left. Zenyatta is looking at Genji, it’s hard to really understand what an omnic is thinking or feeling unless they purposefully demonstrate it for the sake of their human friends. But Jesse thinks he may have a pretty good idea. 

 

“I am fine, Genji,” Zenyatta says lowly, privately. Briefly he raises one of his hand, brushing the side of Genji’s helmet. He wipes off some blood. “Mr. Mishaka needs more treatment than I can provide here, however. We must get him to a medical facility.” 

 

Genji nods, pressing his hand to the side of his visor, activating the com, “Genji checking in- the hostile have been eliminated but Mr. Mishaka needs transportation to a hospital.” 

 

Genji appears to be listening to something.    
  
“I understand, I will clear a path,” Genji take his hand of his helmet and turns to them, “It appears there are stragglers harassing the retreating civilians. Jesse can you escort Mr. Mishaka to the hospital?” 

 

Jesse nods in reply and Genji takes off with one last touch to Zenyatta’s face, and then dashing off, turning the corner, and disappearing. 

 

Jesse digs into his pack and pulls out a cigrallio, lighting it, and taking a shaky inhale, holding it, and then exhaling a puff of smoke. He’s been trying to cut back lately, honest to God. But damn does he need it right now. He glances over to Zenyatta, who’s Orb of Harmony is keeping the bleeding to a minimum. Jesse can hear the sound of an ambulance drawing closer. 

 

“That your first time seeing it?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Shimadas, huh?”

 

“Indeed.” 

 

And that’s that. 

 

There’s something brewing between them, Jesse knows, ten months into knowing one Hanzo Shimada. Something in the air. The touches have changed again, lingering a second longer, happening just that much more often. The jokes he whispers into Hanzo’s ears take a slightly suggestive tone to them, and his voice pitches just slightly deeper without him thinking about it. And Hanzo seems to have bloomed before him these past months- the slowly rebuilding relationship between Hanzo and Genji, the friendship from Jesse: it’s allowed Hanzo to truly flourish into someone who laughs and relaxes and is a part of the trusted core of Overwatch. Where before his touches were fleeting and done only with brisk purpose- now they are more freely given and less stiff in nature. He’ll swing an arm over Hana’s shoulder when they’re watching scary movies, he’ll tap someone’s shoulder to get their attention, he’ll lean into his brother, whispering to one another looking every bit like a pair of foxes in a hen house. And with Jesse...with Jesse their fingers will brush against one another, their bodies will press close, touching from shoulder to knee, as though there isn’t enough room on the couch. Sometimes Hanzo will lean into him, not resting his head on Jesse’s shoulder, but allowing him to take some of his weight and Jesse will swing an arm over the back of the couch casually, his thumb brushing against Hanzo’s other shoulder and resisting the urge to pull him closer still. 

 

Yesterday he caught Hanzo smiling at him in a soft sorta way. The Hanzo he first met would have scowled and stalked away. This one did not. This one cocked his head to the side and stared at Jesse as if he knew his every secret (and Hanzo know’s more than most for sure, things that took Reyes years to learn about him he’s told Hanzo in near months) challenging him, baiting him, asking him something with the sly quirk of his lips and the raised eyebrow, the one he got pierced three weeks ago that’s still healing. There’s something brewing between them. They’re dancing around one another like two lone wolves seeing another of their kind for the first time in an age. So Jesse does what he’s always done when the going get’s tough. 

 

He runs. 

 

Oh, give him a battle and he’ll stand his ground. Give him a cause to fight for and he’ll lead the charge. In the name of justice, his own atonement, in the name of innocents, he’ll face down the darkness any day of  the week. But people forget that Jesse ran rather than watch Overwatch destroy itself, ran rather than watch his Ma work herself to the bone trying to support him, ran from everyone who ever tried to ask him for more. 

 

He stops the touches, the whispered jokes, the arm flung over his shoulder. Sits anywhere other than next to Hanzo, which he hasn’t done for more than a day or two in a row when they’re both on base for ten months time. He still talks, is still amicable, still friendly. Can’t stand not to be. But Jesse’s drawn the line in the sand. His heart is his own. 

 

It hurts like the bloody dickens but it hurt to walk from Reyes and Overwatch too. Hanzo looks at him sometimes with wide, confused, hurt eyes but Jesse pretends he isn’t aware of it. The others take note. Hana has stopped talking to him utterly, giving him the stink eye and has stolen his place next to Hanzo ( _ It was never your place Jesse McCree-stop those fool thoughts).  _ Good, he thinks, someone needs to be there for him. Make sure Hanzo remembers to stop practice and drink water and tell him bad jokes when he gets that furrow between his brows. Angela tries to ask him about it, but he blows her off with a smile and a wink and a whistled tune. 

 

He drinks more, now. More than he has since joining Overwatch again. 

 

He’s at his spot on the roof, the one where Hanzo and him had their talk so long ago (and had many subsequent talks since, friendly banter and serious secrets spilled between them) when the one he’d second least like to talk to right now approaches. 

 

Genji sits cross legged on the roof next to him. Jesse just looks at the stars. They’re a bit blurry right now but he can still make out the constellations, which obviously means he needs another swig. Which he takes. He’s not gonna be the first to say something that’s for sure. 

 

Five minutes of agonizing silences punctuated by longer and longer swings of whiskey go by before Genji breaks the silence, “I had thought you had outgrown your cowardice, Jesse McCree.” 

 

There’s two living souls who can get away with calling him a coward and not get decked-Genji and his Ma. It seems he’s really pissed Genji off. 

 

“Aint a coward,” Jesse grumbles. 

 

“You love my brother.”

 

“I do not,” Jesse states, firm. His chest goes tight at the words. 

 

“I know you, Jesse.”

 

“You knew me near twelve years ago,” Jesse strikes back, like a cornered dog. The Genji of twelve years ago would have bristled and left, hurt, to lick his wounds. But this wasn’t the Genj of twelve years ago. 

 

Instead Genji stares at the side of Jesse’s face and says, “I was like you, in a way, when I met Zenyatta. My heart was a fortress that only my brother was allowed entry and he had burnt that bridge. When I discovered my feelings for Zenyatta, I ran,” Jesse must look a bit surprised at that because Genji chuckles, “Oh I did not leave the temple. I could not bare to be parted from him. But I ran in other ways. I hurt him without hurting him-left without leaving. Selfish,” Genji spits the word bitterly, “like I had been in my youth.” 

 

“What made you stop runnin’?” Jesse asks, quiet. 

 

“I did not,” Genji says, now sounding amused, “I was caught,” Jesse is confused, and it must show because Genji chuckles, metallic. He stands, putting a hand on Jesse’s shoulder and walking away, humming low in his throat. This confuses Jesse further and he wonders if perhaps he’s had too much to drink. A quick glance at the stars and he notes he can still make out the constellations so he doesn’t think so. 

 

“Should you wish to keep my brother out of your heart,” Genji throws over his shoulder, “You had best be sure you have closed off every possible entry.” Genji sounds amused, too knowing for his own good, as though he has already seen the outcome. 

 

“Shimada, by the time I’m done there won’t be a crack for a mouse to wiggle through.” 

 

Jesse is not prepared.

 

Jesse prepares for many things- for anger, and hatred, betrayal and even tears. He’s dealt with enough of all that in his life that it’s easy enough to steal against even Hanzo. He remains friendly, if neutral. Distant, but kind. He doesn’t, couldnt stand the thought of gaslighting Hanzo or anyone to get what he wants not after he saw what it did to his Ma. He remains Hanzo’s friend, just not his best friend anymore. And it hurts, God does it hurt, but he does it because he doesn’t want to hurt Hanzo more than he has to.

 

What Jesse doesn’t prepare for is for the wooing. 

 

He’s Thirty-eight damn years old. There should be no  _ wooing _ involved. 

 

He doesn't even realize it’s happening at first. It’s small things. Hot Sauce in the cabinet the day after he runs out, coffee already brewing when he walks in at ass-o-clock in the morning, his show being recorded for him when he goes away on a mission. He thinks, at first, it’s coincidence. Mei likes the same hot sauce as him, so maybe she got them a bottle. Reinhardt is up early in the morning so maybe he just made coffee. Angela watches the same show, maybe she just recorded it for him. 

 

Then he walks in on Hanzo making Tamales. 

 

He’s careful with it, but it’s obvious he’s never made them before by the holopad propped up and the tutorial he’s watching. Jesse mentioned once, some months ago, that he missed Tamales the most. And here Hanzo is, hair tied back and a furrowed brow as he mouths the spanish back at the narrator trying to make sense of what they’re say with his hands on his hips and the most beautiful scowl on his face. 

 

“What. Are you doing.” Jesse asks but is too stunned to really phrase it as a question. 

 

Hanzo looks up briefly and then turns back to the holovid, “I am attempting to make Tamales.” 

 

“...Why?” 

 

“I thought it was obvious.”

 

Jesse’s pretty sharp so he says with a vague dawning horror, “The hot sauce?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“The coffee?”

 

“You are miserable without the stuff.”

 

“My  _ telenovella? _ ”

 

“You mope every time you miss an episode.”

 

Jesse runs a hand through his hair, pushing his hat up, and says, exasperated, “Why?”

 

“I am attempting to “woo” you,” Hanzo says, eyes still on the spanish speaking Tamale tutorial, but he makes the finger quotes around the word woo, “Is it working?”

 

“What? No!” 

 

“I shall have to try harder then,” Hanzo stops the holovid and rewinds it listening to the part again.

 

Jesse is taken aback. His face feels hot. “Yeah well. It ain’t gonna work!”

 

“Of course,” Hanzo pulls out some red chiles.

 

“I won’t fall for your charms!” 

 

“As I have none to speak of, I have no doubt,” He begins to cook the chiles over a skillet. 

 

“I mean it! I’m an impenetrable fortress!”

 

“The most impenetrable, I’m sure,” He pokes the chiles with a wooden spoon and leaves them be for a moment, bustling around and pulling out garlic cloves and cumin. 

 

Jesse stands there, watching Hanzo ignore him, steaming for a long moment. His face is hot and his heart is pounding. 

 

“Mexican oregano is different then most oregano,” Jesse hears himself saying. 

 

Hanzo stops at that but doesn’t turn to face him, “Oh?” 

 

Jesse pulls his hat down over his face, “Yeah. It. Won’t taste right if you use other kinds. I gotta stash. Behind my  _ Sponch _ ” 

 

“You hide your oregano behind those sweet monstrosities?”

 

“Hey! They’re delicious!” 

 

“Yes, the first one is delicious. But there are six to a package.” 

 

“You’re just a quitter.” 

 

A huff of a laugh, “I beg to differ.” 

 

Jesse kicks the linoleum tile. Looking down at his feet like a child, trying not to smile. He’d missed this. He just watches for a long moment, leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed. Hanzo is so handsome when he's dedicated to something. He's drawn to Hanzo’s ears, of all things, they've taken on a red coloring to them. It takes Jesse a moment too long to realize that Hanzo is well aware that he's still there and watching him and to be embarrassed in turn to be caught staring. 

 

He's about five steps from the kitchen when he realizes that  _ that _ , whatever it was, was  _ not  _ dissuading Hanzo of the notion that he wants to be more than friends. 

 

“Well, shit,” Jesse says, making no effort to keep his voice down.

 

Hanzo has the gall to laugh at him from the kitchen. The Tamales that night don't quite taste like his Ma’s but there's enough similarities that he has to duck his head so folks don't see the sheen to his eyes. He's taken out of his reverie by a bewildered, “The husk is so hard to chew through,” said by Angela, who is, when Jesse looks up, attempting to eat hers like a burrito.

 

There's a brief moment of disbelief before Jesse lets out the loudest bark of laughter he's had since this whole thing started, leaning over his plate and holding onto his gut. Lucio isn't much better, trying to explain to the bewildered faces around the table that no, you don't  _ eat _ the husk, between giggles. 

 

Lucio then brings up the merits of fresh corn husks versus dried and the differences between Tamales and Pamonhas. Jesse argues fiercely on the side of Tamales, waving a fork around for emphasis. It devolves into a Portuguese v. Spanish match, as these conversations between Jesse and Lucio tend to end. Just as Jesse is about to drive a point home he happens to glance up at Hanzo. Hanzo, who's staring at him with the softest look on his face. Jesse has never been more thankful for his darker complexion because he feels the blood rush to his face and his words fumble. He looks back to Lucio, whose eyes are sparkling and a grin twitching at his lips.

 

“Okay there cowboy? You're looking a little jumpy.” 

 

“Just dandy,  _ Mocoso _ ”

 

How was Jesse ever to have supposed to have prepared for  _ wooing? _

 

Said wooing doesn't get more bold- that's not really Hanzo’s style. But it  _ feels _ that way now that Jesse sees it for what it is. He tries to maintain the aloof facade- friendly but distant and cool as a cucumber. But well. Hanzo doesn't stick around to see the results of his work so no one can really blame Jesse for getting mushy about the little things Hanzo’s doing. And the startling thing is that's it's nothing he hadn't already been doing. Hanzo had been doing these things for months now, other than cooking him Tamales that is. It wasn't every time he woke up but sometimes there would be coffee already ready and waiting for him. Every now and then he'd find some extra  _ Sponch _ or sweet bread he likes. He'd caught the flu about two months back and he'd walked out his dorm to find a bottle of Aloe drink waiting for him with some Vapor rub. He figured at the time it was Angela seeing as he'd refused to come in for treatment. 

 

Hanzo has been doing these little things for Jesse, going out of his way to make Jesse’s life easier, or happier, and he never said a word. Did it not for the praise but for the joy of doing it for him. It's a heady, giddy rush. 

 

(He ignores the fact that he’d been doing much the same- keeping the rice tub full and Hanzo’s favorite blend of almond milk flowing.) 

 

It makes things just that much harder. He finds himself responding, catching himself smiling or looking at Hanzo. Hanzo, bless his heart, never calls him out on it. Hanzo is a direct man- allowing his actions to speak for him. He’s careful to not overstep boundaries- to give Jesse space. The whole mess just leaves Jesse conflicted-he hadn’t meant to let the archer in so close. It seems all his best efforts to keep distance between them were for nothing- Hanzo wass already in the stronghold by the time he closed the doors and lifted the drawbridge. 

 

He’s frustrated and scared and unsure of what to do. He feels like he’s caught in limbo- between what his heart wants and his mind knows what’s best for him. It isn’t fair to Hanzo either. Though part of Jessie knows the man will wait for as long as Jessie seems to want him around- it just doesn’t feel right. Like he’s stringing him along. And Hanzo deserves better than that. Resolve fills Jessie- to end this, tell Hanzo to knock it off, tell him straight he doesn’t want a relationship. To stop acting like he has anything to give Hanzo. 

 

He sends a text to Hanzo’s communicator- the roof, their usual spot, in one hour. After receiving confirmation Jesse sets himself to pacing the small space of his room like a caged lion, thinking and rethinking what he’s going to say. How to phrase it in a way that will hurt them both the least. Ten minutes of pacing and Jesse’s too anxious to be confined to his room any longer so he heads to the roof early, hoping the fresh air will clear his mind. 

 

Nothing's that easy, of course, and Hanzo is already there by the time he arrives. But by Hanzo’s own anxious pacing before he turns to Jesse in surprise, he’d guess that Hanzo is having much the same thoughts as him. 

 

“Well,” Jesse drawls after a moment of silence, “might as well get this over with.” 

 

Hanzo, impossibly, straightens even further and nods. Jesse approaches slowly, trying not notice the little things that have become apparent as Jesse’s attraction to Hanzo grew- like the strong line of his jaw leading to his throat, the depth of his eyes, the nervous way he rubs his fingers together. They stand on the precipice, Jesse knows, and he’s about to be the one to break the fragile thing that’s been growing between them. It hurts already. 

 

“I want you to stop with all this nonsense,” Jesse says, looking past Hanzo and towards the sea. He lifts up and tugs nervously at his hat, “It wasn’t right of me to lead you on like that and I apologize. But It’d be better if we stayed friends.” 

 

He can hear the way Hanzo’s breath catches a little. And he knows that Hanzo’s fingers are rubbing against each other- nervous and upset. 

 

“If you are to reject me, then look me in the eyes. Our friendship deserves that much at least.” 

 

Jesse was part of Deadlock, played his part in plenty of covert ops for Blackwatch and was on the run for ten years. He knows how to look someone in the eyes and lie. But somehow, even compared to times where his life was on the line, this is harder. Jessie drags his eyes from the sea to Hanzo’s face. It’s hard to make out Hanzo’s features, being backlit by the setting sun, but he can still make out the tense line of his brow, the way his jaw is clenched. 

 

Jesse makes a fist at his side and then forces himself to relax, he keeps his face smooth, “I don’t want to be with you.”

 

Hanzo’s fingers rub together, he can see the hurt on his face. But he draws in a deep shaking breath and demands, “Tell me that you do not care for me- that my feelings are one sided.” 

 

That one’s harder. He’s been dancing around- trying not to outright lie- because it’s easier to bend the truth then to lie. But if all he’s gotta do it convince Hanzo he doesn’t love him then he can do that, “I don’t care for you. You’re feelings are one sided. I’m sorry.” 

 

Hanzo looks to the side, Jesse can see how those words hurt and wants to take them back. In the silence, he thinks that’s the end of that. Nipped it in the bud. Part of his mind goes back to Genji and wants to say  _ See? Impenetrable fortress. _

 

He forgets, for a moment, that Hanzo is just as much a master a deceit as he is and on top of that he’s at least thrice as stubborn as Jessie, who’s learned to go with the flow. A shaky inhale and Hanzo is catching his eyes again, saying with no doubt in his voice, “You’re lying. Your words now do not match the actions- the responses- of the past weeks and months. You are scared,” his voice gets a little louder, firmer, as Jessie moves to interrupt, “That I will hurt you- that you will hurt me. That this will be a mistake.”

 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Jesse says. 

 

“I do not want you to say anything. I want you to try.” 

 

“This is a mistake. A trainwreck waitin’ to happen.” 

 

“Or perhaps it is the best decision either of us has made in a long while.” 

 

Jesse looks to the side, tilting his hat down. He hears the sound of Hanzo approaching, closing the distance between them. He grabs Jesse’s flesh hand between two of his, gently tugging it between them. His hands are warm and calloused. It makes Jesse’s heart beat a little faster in his chest. He looks back, meeting Hanzo’s gaze. Hanzo’s eyes are soft and don’t leave Jesse’s as he raises the hand to his lips, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to his knuckles. 

 

“If it is me you fear...If you are afraid I will hurt you. Than I will understand. I have no desire to force you into something you do not want. But that will not change how I feel for you.” 

 

“And how’s that,” Jesse asks before his brain to mouth filter can stop him, his voice hoarse. His hand is grasping desperately at Hanzo’s. Hanzo untangles their fingers and Jesse moves to take his hand back, trying to regain control of himself, but Hanzo simply gently raises it and place it to the side of Hanzo’s face, cupping his cheek. 

 

A moment passes, and then another, Hanzo’s hand holding Jesse’s gently against his face. Unconsciously, Jesse presses against him a little, thumb brushing his cheekbone. Hanzo leans in, much like a cat. 

 

“I love you, Jesse McCree.” 

 

Hanzo’s eyes are closed as he says it and his face is turned towards Jesse’s palm, so that he can feel the words come from his lips as he says them. His breath catches and without thinking Jesse is moving forward. He slides his hand down from Hanzo’s face and grasps his biceps on either side and he rests his forehead against Hanzo’s shoulder. His body is shuddering lightly as a plethora of emotions run through him, condensing into the corners of his eyes and leaking out slowly. Hanzo shifts, causing Jesse’s hands to fall from his biceps and Jesse makes a quiet wounded noise, moving to step back, feeling vulnerable and rejected, but Hanzo shushes him, wrapping one arm around Jessie’s shoulder and the other into his hair, pressing him closer until their chests are touching. Jessie wraps himself around Hanzo. 

 

“I love you, I love you,” over and over Hanzo murmurs the words into Jessie’s hair, rubbing circles into his back, “I am not leaving, I love you.” 

 

Jessie is shaking, his knees are weak and they buckle under the weight of the words, Hanzo grasping him and slowing down their fall. They’re leaning into each other, Jessie’s hat having fallen off somewhere in between everything. 

 

It takes time, but eventually Jesse’s shudders have subsided- the sun is but a sliver in the sky, purples and blues having overtaken well over half as night makes itself known. Jesse straightens, pulling away. The hand that was on Jessie’s back sliding down and entangling itself into Jesse’s metal hand, the other sliding out of his hair and cupping his face, rubbing at the tear tracks no doubt lining his face.

 

“I’m a right mess darlin’ you sure this is something you wanna get into?” Jesse’s voice is hoarse, a little defeated, but mostly tired and weary. 

 

“Only if it is your wish as well,” Hanzo replies, softly, soothingly. And Jesse knows, that even after all of this, if he says he doesn’t want to be with Hanzo, he’ll accept it. It’s that, more than anything else that leads Jesse to pressing his flesh hand to the one that Hanzo has against his face and keeping it there, closing his eyes and tilting his head slightly to press a kiss against it. 

 

“God help me but it is.” 

 

They sit there on the roof until the sun disappears past the horizon. Jesse knows the cold will begin to bother Hanzo’s legs soon, as well as his arm, and moves to stand, grabbing his hat on the way up. He offers a hand to Hanzo to help him up, which Hanzo takes, but instead of taking his hand back after, Hanzo simply entwines their fingers. With a silly smile on his face, Jesse and Hanzo begin the walk back to their dorms in silence, hands clasped together and arms brushing every now and then as they drift closer together. 

 

Jesse’s room comes up first, Hanzo’s being down a few hallways. 

 

“Well, this is my stop,” Jesse mumbles, having a bit of trouble meeting Hanzo’s gaze. Despite the words, Jesse makes no move to take his hand back from Hanzo. 

 

“May I kiss you?” Hanzo asks seriously.

 

“Aww shucks you don’t ask for things like that you just do em,” Jesse says, embarrassed.    
  


Hanzo simply raises a brow, waiting for a response. Seeing Hanzo obviously isn’t going to budge until he has consent causes an odd twisting in his gut but he’s happy too. And he does want to kiss Hanzo, has for a while now. So he nods. 

 

Once more, Hanzo’s hand finds it’s way to Jesse’s face as he takes a half step forward, moving into Jesse’s space. Hanzo tilts his head up, leaning close, his eyes half close, and Jesse leans forward as well, eyes slipping shut. Hanzo’s lips are chapped but yielding. Soft. It lasts for a few moments, just a gentle, chaste press of the lips. But it causes Jesse’s breath to hitch. Hanzo pulls away and for a moment longer Jesse keeps his eyes closed savoring the feeling, before opening them once more and meeting Hanzo’s gaze. Hanzo’s eyes are soft and there’s a flush to his cheeks. He’s smiling as well, a gentle soft thing that makes him look years younger. 

 

“Good night, Jesse,” the fondness in Hanzo’s voice is undeniable and it causes a happy rush to run through Jesse. 

 

“G’night, Hanzo.” 

 

They’re still close, and Jesse can feel the temptation to just bring this beautiful man into his room and his bed. But the words Hanzo said earlier- the confessions given, make him pause. Makes him want to do this right. So instead he watches as Hanzo takes a step back, breaking the points of contact between them reluctantly, and turns around, walking down the hallway to his own dorm. 

 

Jesse watches him go until Hanzo turns the corner and then enters his own room. It’s early yet, but the emotional roller coaster of the past hour has left Jesse exhausted so he shuffles over to his bed and falls down onto it face first into his lumpy pillow. Without moving his head from the pillow he kicks off his boots. Then, he shifts his face to the side so he can breath. Jesse finds himself replaying their conversation in his head, over and over. Part of him is mad at himself- this wasn’t what he intended. He’s terrified things will go wrong- that this will end in nothing but hurt and broken hearts for both of them. But the larger part of him remembers those words that Hanzo said with such conviction, the feel of his hands in Jesse’s hair, the way he held Jesse when his emotions overwhelmed him, a steady rock in the storm. Remembers the feel of Hanzo’s lips against his hand, kind and gentle and then the look in his eyes when he asked to kiss him, stern in the fact that he needed to ask first. The feel of his lips on Jesse’s. 

 

It’s been a long time since Jesse’s kissed anyone. Longer still since he kissed anyone and meant to follow through with more than a night’s roll in the hay. Unconsciously, Jesse brings his fingers up to his lips, trying to capture that feeling again and he drifts off to sleep like that- playing the night out in his mind and thinking of a future where he’ll get to kiss Hanzo.

 

Things are different after that but they’re also the same. Jesse had thought Hanzo would want to keep their relationship secret- it what his flings back in the day always wanted and Hanzo seems the type to want to keep his private life to himself. They aren’t macking on the couch like kids- but they’re also both closer to forty then they are to thirty. Hanzo reclaims his spot next to Jesse on the couch as though he’d never left and Jesse returns to his spot next to Hanzo at dinner. They’d still drink on the roof and watch the ocean waves but now their shoulders and fingers brush or Hanzo will rest his head on Jesse’s shoulder, fitting like he’d been meant to be there all along. The little things Hanzo had been doing for him- making coffee, recording shows, little things- they don’t stop now that they’re together like a part of Jesse had been expecting. They continue as normal. The only difference really being that they’re more open with their affection towards one another. Jesse doesn’t try and hide the loving looks he gives Hanzo and Hanzo does the same. The other’s catch on quickly and other than a few congratulations here and there, one “I thought they had been dating for months,” from Hana and approximately five minutes of smug silence from Genji until Jesse sighs and admits he’d been right, there’s little fanfare to the ordeal. 

 

Jesse is thrown for a loop. He doesn’t quite know how to respond to how well things are going other than to wait for the other shoe to drop. He keeps waiting for Hanzo to proclaim this all a joke, or to wake up one day and ignore him similarly to his past lovers or for one of the others to throw dirty looks and slurs their way whenever they’re being affectionate in public the way Deadlock and his Pa used to. He’s surprised every time Hanzo asks to kiss him and by the look Hanzo gets on his face in response, something fierce and protective and dangerous, Jesse suspects that’s part of the reason he keeps asking.

 

Hanzo aks, once, about his previous experiences, in the quiet dark of Jesse’s room. They haven’t gone any further than kisses and heady touches but they do occasionally sleep in one or the other’s room. 

 

Jesse is quiet for a long moment, too long he realizes only when Hanzo cups his face. Jesse presses Hanzo’s hand closer to his face and kisses it, “None as sweet as you Honeybee.”

 

It’s dark, but they’re facing each other and the bed is a tight squeeze for two people- he can see the brow furrowed and downward tilt of Hanzo’s mouth, “I will not pry,” Hanzo says to Jesse’s great relief, “But I am here and I will not leave until you send me away.” 

 

Jesse doesn’t say what he’s thinking then, doesn’t say,  _ Then never leave _ , because that’s too much, too soon. Instead he says, “Kiss me?” and Hanzo complies, gently pressing their lips together, letting Jesse set the slow pace of the kiss and never pressing for more. 

 

“I love you, “ Hanzo murmurs as he’s falling asleep, the words like panacea for Jesse’s soul. Hanzo lets him be little spoon, which beingl is nice, no one else would let him before on account of being so tall. Jesse doesn’t say the words back, can’t. They die somewhere between his heart and his tongue. Instead  he raises his arm to grasp at Hanzo’s slung around his waist and holds him tight and hopes the feeling gets across.  

 

“Never sleep as soundly as I do when you’re here,” Jesse says instead. Hopes Hanzo can read between the lines, can hear the  _ I don’t sleep soundly unless I’m drunk  _ the  _ When I do sleep the nightmares and memories keep me from peace  _ the  _ I have a script for sleeping pills from Angela but I don’t fill it because that’s too much temptation for one man to resist. _

 

By the way Hanzo’s grip tightens, Jesse thinks he does. In some ways, that’s a miracle. 

 

Weeks later, a thunderstorm is rolling in- Jesse can feel it in his arm at least an hour before the clouds darken. By the way Hanzo collapses to the ground the moment he tries to stand from the bed, Jesse reckons he feels it too. Jesse helps Hanzo back to the bed, makes him take off his legs, tell him to stay put while he gets some books and tea and toast for a day in. 

 

“I’ve dealt with storms before Jesse,” Hanzo huffs, prideful, “Given a few minutes I will be able to walk.” 

 

“Not today Sweetpea,” Jesse says fondly, “Let me spoil you for once will ya?” 

 

Hanzo grumbles some more but ultimately settles down, obviously relieved to not have to be out and about today. The walk to the kitchens reveals that many are feeling much the same- they’re all missing parts around here. Satya sits on a couch in the rec room with a large cup of coffee in hand and a heavy looking blanket around her shoulders looking right miserable. Torb is nowhere to be seen, likely in the workshops trying to tinker his pain away. Jack, he knows, deals with pain but punching things, so here’s either on the streets looking for thugs or in the training rooms. Genji’s the only one with extensive damage done that isn’t absolutely miserable today and that’s on account of most of his nerves being fried. Those who haven’t been hurt in similar ways are gentle around the ones that have- Lucio keeps his music to his rooms and Hana her games to hers. Winston’s in the labs, likely keeping an eye on Torb. Lena’s on leave to visit Emily otherwise she’d be zipping around offering tea and sweets to anyone cringing even slightly. 

 

The kitchens are empty. At one point Overwatch had enough people that there were cooks cooking around the clock to keep everyone fed. Now it’s every person for themselves more or less, with the exception of dinner. Zenyatta is there, surprisingly, chopping up fruits and vegetables. 

 

“Mornin’ Zen, making Genji his morning meal?” Jesse pops some bread into the toaster, setting the timer down from “actually toast” to “barely warm bread” the way Hanzo likes it. He fiddles with the electric kettle, trying to remember the right temperature setting for green tea. 

 

“Indeed,” Zenyatta intones, pulling one of the nanite vials that Genji consumes once a week to try and restore his body from the fridge. It’s slow work but the few months Genji’s been on them since returning to Overwatch has shown big improvements- his body can digest solids a little easier now, hence the chopped up platter before zenyatta. Though likely the lot of them will be going into the blender soon- according to Genji the nanites taste like mint jello and Genji hates mint and jello. Hence the smoothies. 

 

Zenyatta and him haven’t talked much more than in passing since Genji’s dragon reveal and with Jesse getting caught up with Hanzo and so many missions happening there just hasn’t been much time. Part of Jesse wants to ask how things are between the two of them- the larger part of him says to mind his manners. They’d never been close before, but they’re both dating a Shimada now- perhaps they have more in common than Jesse first thought. 

 

Jesse pulls the barely warm toast onto a plate and drizzles some olive oil on top. He’d chop up a tomato to put on top but he knows Hanzo gets nauseous on stormy days from the pain so he sticks with the toast and tea. Zenyatta blends the nanites with the fruits and veggies creating a green tinged smoothie. Jesse winces a little for his friend at the size of the smoothie as he waits for the tea to steep. Genji’s stomach can’t handle large portions of food anymore but he needs the calories to keep his body running, resulting in him eating like a bird most days. He’ll need to drink all the smoothie though- and he knows that Genji doesn’t care for the taste of it. 

 

Thunder crashes outside as Jesse pulls out the tea infuser. A glance outside a window over one of the sinks shows gray skies and an onslaught of rain- lightning dances between the clouds only to touch down on Earth every once in awhile. He’s reminded of Hanzo’s dragons, of Genji’s, in that moment. The way the thunder seems to shake the air, the presence of the storm- something untamable and powerful. Something strong enough to bring down mountains and destroy lives. 

 

He hesitates, looking out the window, caught up in his own thoughts, until Zenyatta speaks, “Their dragons sound like the storm, do the not?” 

 

Jesse startles slightly, turning his face to Zenyatta, but Zenyatta is looking out the window. Lightning flashes across the sky, followed by Thunder’s low rumble. The lights flicker, but stay on. Jesse turns back to the window. 

 

“First time I saw Hanzo’s,” Jesse says slowly, thoughtfully, “I thought he was a monster. Somethin’ not of this world.” 

 

“The thought crossed my mind as well,” Zenyatta confesses softly. 

 

The rain pelts against the window in sheets. It feels like it will never end. 

 

Jesse words are quiet, tinged with that old fear he felt the first time he saw those dragons, “Maybe they aren’t. Maybe they are monsters waitin’ to devour us whole.” 

 

Zenyatta is quiet for a long moment, contemplative, “When is a monster not a monster?” 

 

Jesse’s heard this one before- heard it whispered between lovers in Blackwatch late at night when the memory of blood on their hands is still fresh. Enough blood to swim in, more eyes wide open in horror on faces much too young. No one in Blackwatch slept soundly, the bags under the eyes a testament to their sins.         

 

“When you love it.” 

 

Thunder crashes outside, Hanzo’s tea is not doubt a little cold by now but Jesse can’t bring himself to move. He won’t mind, will just smile softly and thank him for the tea. Years of on the run living have made things like warm tea pleasant but not necessary to enjoy it. It’s steeped correctly at least. 

 

He turns the phrase over in his mind, over and over. Thinks of the man lying in his bed and the wide brown eyes of a kid frozen in their last moment forever. Of a man watching a holovid of how to make Tamales in spanish and asking for permission before kissing.

 

When is a monster not a monster? 

 

He ponders it over in his mind on his walk back, one of the cafeteria trays in hand holding the plate of toast and tea and coffee. Athena opens the door for him, so he doesn’t need to juggle between the tray and the hand-print scanner. He shoots her a quick thank you and heads inside, eyes adjusting to the dim lights. The tray he places on the side table and Jesse sits on the edge of the bed. Hanzo is awake, unable to sleep through the pain in his legs, and he shifts until his back is against the wall and there’s enough room for Jesse to put his feet up besides Hanzo’s thighs. Gently, Jesse hands over the tea, noting the faint tremor in Hanzo’s hands. Hanzo sips at it, smiles gently, and thanks him for the tea. The toast he eats carefully, plate close to his chin to catch crumbs. Hanzo’s skin is sensitive, he knows, and the feel of crumbs on the bed will annoy him into washing them. After, he leans into Jesse, head on his shoulder and reading his holopad with him. 

 

“The power of a storm is an amazing thing,” Hanzo says, “How people have adapted is even more amazing.” 

 

It’s an article about a town far to the west, where the mountains held back the sky. An older article, but Hanzo doesn’t question why he’s reading old news. The article is set a year after a mudslide that destroyed the town.

 

“Don’t get it, why didn’t they just leave? A lotta people died there.”

 

“The Earth returned their tenacity, look: the mudslide brought down fresh nutrients into the soil- their crops were failing before.” 

 

“But why come back at all? What if it happens again? The rain aint gonna stop falling just cuz a mudslide happened once.”

 

Hanzo lets out a low hmmm in his throat, turning his head and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his neck, “I suppose it is human nature- that place is their home, despite tragedy. And their efforts were rewarded. They produce enough crops to help sustain the entire surrounding area. The storm did not go out of its way to take lives- it simply is.” 

 

In the distance, thunder rolls. Jesse puts down the holopad and turns towards Hanzo, dislodging him. Hanzo’s face is curious but he leans readily enough into Jesse when his lips meet his. They shift until they’re lying down, hands roaming quietly along the plane and dips of each other's bodies. One of Jesse’s thighs slots into place between Hanzo’s causing the older man to break off with a slight gasp and an uncontrolled roll of his hips. Jesse’s hands are on Hanzo’s waist, pulling him close. He’s so soft- you wouldn’t think it, looking at the tight compact way he’s built, but he’s soft and warm and he shivers under Jesse’s touch. 

 

When is a monster not a monster?

 

“I love you.”     

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for prompts on the McHanzo discord I'm part of and this 11K monstrocity is the result of that. If you're interested in joining us, hit us up here: https://discord.gg/PtBGPhV


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